Betrayl
by Immisericors
Summary: Brutus's last days after killing Caesar... Based off of TV show 'Rome' and historical fact


**_This story is told from the viewpoint of Brutus himself! This is a historical fiction that I wrote for school in 2005 for my Creative Writing class... soooo yeah! Enjoy! lol

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**XLII BC**

It is October **XXX** and the snows have reached the mountains already. The winters have come to Greece where my men and I rest from a lost battle with Octavian and Marc Antony. Our defeat has made my nightmares come true and even in daylight they haunt me time and time again. Just last night, Caesar visited me in his royal attire, purple sash and rich white flowing toga, and he stood there just looking at me. All of a sudden, it turns dark and a man is standing next to him with a golden dagger on Caesar's throat. The man was dark, mysterious and had an evil presence about him. The man began to laugh evilly and slit Caesar's throat slowly. Caesar looked up with a twisted face of pain and betrayal. The man lifted his head slowly, still laughing darkly. That man, Caesar's murderer, was me. I immediately woke from my slumber and felt my pillow was wet with tears. Men don't cry, but I was not a man then, not even half of a man. I was lower than a man at that point, a man without a soul is of no use and is just a waste of a being.

My dream reflected the truth as well as my fear, for I did betray and kill my best friend from birth on the Ides of March two years ago. I can recall everything that had happened that led up to this point too vividly for my own good.

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It all began in Iuanuarius of **LXIV** BC when the Senate proclaimed Caesar as a perpetual dictator. One man cannot rule Rome alone, not then and definitely not now. Problems with theft, murder, and other heinous crimes were almost at an all time high when Senate announced to the Roman public about the dictatorship. This was the first in three events that was to come, each event worse than the last. Since I was Iulius's friend, I decided to give him a chance and voted for his rule. A mistake I would soon regret for, literally, my life. 

A month passed and soon Lupercalia rolled around on Februarius **XV**. Lupercalia stretched into what seemed oblivion in the cool darkness of evening. Drinking, dancing, laughter, and merriment all went on as we of the Senate and the rest of the elites sat inside the Forum discussing topics on the military and public safety. While in discussion, a group of men and women escorted Marc Antony into the room. Antony bowed before the Senate and began to speak words of kind respect to Caesar. Then, I knew something was up Antony's _tunica_. Sweet talk continued about how Caesar had conquered Gaul and Aegyptus and other countries that had expanded the empire until finally Antony revealed his trick. Antony offered Caesar a complete diadem of Rome, which was exactly what Caesar was already: an elite. Caesar did not want to become a king, but that night there was a sparkle in his eye that hinted otherwise. Looking around at all the faces of the Senate, I could see that they were mad as bulls in a beast hunt but when Caesar stood to make a speech, he publicly refused the offer. Antony was shocked and left in a daze with his cluster of people, and the Senate went back to discussion.

Eleven days passed with three more senate meetings in a week and a half. The third meeting was without the supervision of my friend Caesar. The senate met that day with me in their presence and had decided since I, Marcus Brutus the descendant of the very same Brutus who had expelled Tarquinius Superbus, the last of Rome's kings, and founded the Republic almost five hundred years before, was to save the Republic from Caesar's rule as king. The Senate had actually thought that Caesar would betray his word after declining the kingship offered by Antony. The Senate said that my participation in their conspiracy was the utmost important task, and if I had not complied to their request, they would have killed me on the spot. There was nothing for me to do but sit back and watch them plot my friend's murder.

The murder plot was ready in twenty days time. The Senate was to escort Caesar to the Forum and sit with him to discuss a solution about Rome's murder rate. I found it ironic that the group chose murder above all else to talk about. At noon on the Ides of March, Senate met quickly at a small armory to pick up their weapon of choice. Each member was equipped with a small silver dagger, and I had been given a medium sized golden plated dagger. We tucked them into our togas and marched into the Forum where the Senate and I sat around Caesar, who merrily talked about a plan to solve murders within city limits. At the end of his speech, one member of the Senate took his queue. Caesar's rich purple toga was ripped away from his neck, a dagger being thrusted past his neck and wounding him as Caesar tried to move. Another dagger was driven into his bosom as he twisted away, writhing in pain from the attacks other Senate members led. I struck Caesar in the groin, making him fall to the cool, white marble floor. He turned away from one killer to another as I just stood there, wanting no part in the murder any more. Senate then encircled Caesar as they thrusted their blows into Caesar's body. His cries of pain were as furious as a wild beasts as I was yelled at to draw my dagger, and like an obedient puppy, I drew my weapon. The circle of blood covered men allowed the tortured soul to stand as Caesar saw me through the fury and fell to his knees again whispering '_Et tu, Brute, my son?_'

I couldn't take it at that point. Caesar's misery and pain was thrusted into me as I embraced him one last time, and drove my dagger into his heart from behind to ease all of his pain. I let him go in tears as his body dropped, lifeless. I stood up crying as I watched the men continue to strike the fallen body, often cutting each other in the frenzy like blood thirsty wolves. Caesar's once proud pose was defiled, and his body stabbed twenty three times. Blood pooled around the corpse and marked the feet of the guilty, including mine. The Senate looked to me and praised me, but I cursed them all and ran. I ran as far as I could run before collapsing with exhaustion and realized: Rome is not friendly anymore. All the trust I had in Rome was killed in cold blood by my hands. I ran for two years before ending up in Graecia where I fought Octavian, Caesar's adopted son, and Marc Antony. Octavian had heard about Caesar's death and rushed out with Antony to kill me, but it took him a year to find where my army and I was hiding.

On October **VI** in **XLII** BC, my army had crushed Octavian's men in an extended battle that lasted two days of hand to hand combat. Weary from their fight, my men retreated victoriously into our superfluous camps in the foothills of a mountain east of a small abandoned town. Cassius, my friend and fellow general, led his army against Antony to protect my whereabouts and lost most of his soldiers. Cassius committed suicide shortly after his loss without ever knowing of my victory over Octavian. What was left of Cassius's men regrouped with mine days later. Octavian met up with Antony and marched their army home, regarding me as dead and not a threat to Rome anymore after they had beaten my army to dirt. They were right, I was not a threat to Rome anymore, but to myself. Murder had driven my mind out of sanity as dreams of Caesar plagued my slumber. I awoke from my sleep with my pillow wet with tears each night. My army and I spent the rest of our time starving or wasting energy by hunting for food but with no prevail. At times, I thought about suicide, finding Cassius's escape comforting in this darkness. Everything now is twisted and dark and I think my revenge is being served.

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It is sad that details of a murder can describe a person's soul, especially the murderer. My soul is dark like the nights of a new moon and all the stars have been put out. Caesar visited me in a daydream, beckoning me to join him in Elysium. No, my friend, I am not going to Elysium where all the good souls go to sit in luxury. Tartarus awaits me, where Sisyphus rolls his rock and Tantalus is teased with food and drink. Cerberus will chew me and spit me back out where souls of the dead shall poke and prod and burn me for eternity. Cassius had the right idea to just give up, but my men urge me to escape still. Escape, yes, but _this_ time, not with the feet. 


End file.
